Two Soldiers
by Jord
Summary: A new kid on the block struggles to deal with his manifesting mutation and attends Xavier's school. But it turns out that he is also the perfect would-be assassin, in the right place at the right time...
1. Chapter 1

TRENTON

NEW JERSEY

MERCER COUNTY SURGERY CENTER

JUNE, 1997

The afternoon sunlight streamed in through the blinds, lighting up patches of the room. One particular ray of light shone down upon the boy's head that was resting on the pillow, illuminating his light brown hair, so much so that it looked like an unearthly aura had surrounded him. 

The woman stood, her arms folded tight across her chest. She pursed her lips tight, trying desperately not to cry. 

He had seen it all before. But that hadn't served to make him more immune to it. He knew that almost every mother - every parent for that matter – would gladly take upon themselves ten times the amount of pain that their own child was enduring if it could only ease their child's suffering. He was certain that he would have done it himself. But that was not the way of the world. That wasn't how things worked; unfair as it was.

'Mrs. Franco, we spoke about this before – how there was a large possibility that things could turn out like this. Sometimes,' he winced as he said this, 'these things are to be expected.'

She turned to face him angrily. 'How can you say this? No one _expects_ to see their son have an epileptic fit in the middle of their soccer game! No one _expects_ to see him crumble down in before he shoots in the goal... Oh God, help me...' She had given up trying to hold back the tears, and had simply let them gush out. She grabbed onto the doctor's arms and sank to her knees.

He bent down to offer her the most comfort he could. 'He's not comatose...far from it, in fact. And I do believe that the double dosage of Vigabatrin we've just given him will see him through.' The doctor swallowed hard as he continued. 'The fact that he's asleep now is a good sign.'

She turned her face up to him, and started brushing the tears away as she stood back up. 'But his usual doctor said that the medication should work. He said that Aidan didn't even have all the major symptoms of the disease. It just doesn't make any sense.' She turned to face the bed her son was in. 'He was getting better too. He hadn't had a fit in over seven months.'

'Mrs. Franco, I'm sorry. To be honest...I don't know what to tell you. Except that I've seen several cases make a turn for the worse. But there is hope in the fact that most of these cases have made it through.'

'Did you contact my husband?'

'Yes, over half an hour ago. I think he mentioned that he'd be late – traffic, you see.'

She wasn't listening. She was staring intently at her son. At first, the doctor thought it was a look of sympathy and pain, but then when he too turned to see, he noticed that the boy's hands had started to twitch.

'Oh God, not again...'she said inaudibly.

They both rushed towards the boy. His mother stood on his left, holding onto his hand and stroking his arm. The doctor stood on his right and pulled out his small flashlight and shone it into the boy's eyes.

'Pupils dilating...he's going under again,' he muttered to himself before shouting, 'Nurse! Somebody get a nurse in here!'

'Is he going to be alright? Tell me, is going to be alright?' her voice was growing more anxious with each passing second.

'Listen to me, you've got to be ready to hold him down. He's going to have another fit.' He spun around and grabbed a metal spoon that was sitting on the untouched dinner tray, and inserted it horizontally into the boy's mouth. 'Hold him down.'

Almost as soon as he had finished talking, the boy's body convulsed and started shaking. His muscles contracted involuntarily, and he grabbed his mother's arm with his left hand while the doctor tried desperately to pin him down with all his strength. The harder he tried, the harder the boy thrashed around moaning slightly as he did so.

'Where's the bloody nurse! I need the nurse in here NOW!' he shouted.

The doctor looked towards his mother briefly – her arm was turning red where the boy was still clutching it, and amidst the pandemonium he saw her lips move, but couldn't discern the first few words.

'-feel funny...' was what he thought she said before he felt his knees give way under him and everything went black.

*       *       *

'Here honey, take a sip of this.' The nurse handed him a Styrofoam cup of cold water and he accepted it gratefully. She stroked his hair and smiled down at him.

'I feel fine actually...can I go home now?' He shifted around in the bed, tired of lying still for so long.

'Yeah,' she seemed reluctant to continue, 'Aidan, your dad's on his way here, and then it look's like you're gonna be driving back home pretty soon.'

'Where's dad?' his eyes perked up.

'Talking to one of the doctors.'

'But I told you – I'm fine.' He sighed in frustration. 'Where's mum then?' he asked.

The nurse didn't answer. 

'Where's mum?' he asked, this time with a greater sense of urgency in his voice. He knew something was wrong. 

She wanted to tell him, but didn't think that it was her place to. No, it was better to wait until the father got here, she thought. But looking at this beautiful child now, she felt immensely sorry for him. And she reminded herself that if it was her lying there in his stead, she would have wanted to know immediately. She stepped up to his bedside and sat on the edge of the bed.

'Aidan listen, your mom's not well right now. She's very sick. I don't know what made her ill... All I know is that the doctors here are taking very good care of her. They've induced coma to reduce the trauma on her brain. They're doing everything they can to make her better.' 

'Coma. That's when people go to sleep for a long time and can't be woken up.' he spoke quietly.

'That's right. But they're not dead.'

'She was fine yesterday... Why is she sick?'

'Well-'

He interrupted her. 'I remember something...I remember mum and this other person,'

'Aidan, I don't think-'

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to connect broken images into something that made sense. '...mum was holding onto me, I think... And then her eyes rolled up, and she fell,'

'It's not-'

'I made her fall! Don't you see! It was me, I made her so sick.' 

He shut his eyes tight as the nurse tried to offer some comfort. 'It's not your fault,'

But he wasn't listening. He flung the covers off the bed and got out. He ran towards the jar of water on top of the cabinets and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a smack and the water fell splashing onto the ground. 'I did it! It was my fault!' He pointed his finger at his chest as he screamed hysterically. 'Me!!! I hurt her!' Aidan began to shout now – no words – as he ran around the room pulling and throwing things.

Suddenly, the door was flung open as two men walked in. One of them strode hurriedly towards the boy and held his shoulders tightly. Aidan squirmed in his grasp as the man spoke. 'Aidan...listen, listen to dad,'

'No...' protested Aidan. 'I killed her.'

'_No_. No you didn't. It wasn't your fault. Don't you ever say that!' he looked deep into the boy's eyes. 'She's just sick. She's not dead. And what happened was not your fault – nobody's blaming you. I'm not going to let them. And I'm not going to let you.' Aidan looked back at his father as he continued. 'We only have each other now. Just you and me. But I need you to help me get through this, okay? Can you do that for daddy?'

He nodded through his tears and spoke, 'Can we go home now? I want to go home...'

*       *       *

Jonathan Franco kissed his son goodnight, turned off his bedroom light and walked into the hallway. He massaged the bridge of his nose, picked up the phone and dialed the hospital.

'Doctor West please.' he said.

The receptionist put him on hold for a few minutes while she transferred his call. 

_'Yes?'_ spoke the female voice at the other end. _'This is Doctor West.'_

'Madeleine, this is Mr. Franco – Aidan's father. There's something I need to ask you... It's what we spoke about earlier. About Aidan.'

_'Go on,'_

'This...mutation...you haven't told anyone?'

_'No. I think we agreed that it was in Aidan's best interest that he shouldn't know about it until a few years from now. He's still only eleven. And it's also better if no one else finds out, don't you think?'_

'Yes. But is it true then – that he could have potentially caused Emily's – my wife's – condition?'

Her tone changed suddenly – it became harsher_. 'Mr. Franco, I don't believe that it's best to place blame on the child. At any point in time.'_

'No, no...I'm not blaming him. It's not his fault, and I understand that – I really do.  I just need to know what it's all about. I feel I should be able to tell him when he starts asking questions. When he starts showing the symptoms.' explained Franco.

Her voice softened. _'I completely understand.'_ There was a brief moment of silence on the line as she paused before continuing. _'I've only encountered two similar cases in my entire career, Mr. Franco. Both of which weren't as severe as Aidan's. The CT scan we conducted showed abnormally erratic neurological behavior – what I mean is, there's unusually high electrical activity in his brain.'_

'So what does that mean?'

_'Now you mustn't take my word for it, but I've come up with a theory. It's likely that this activity can create a field of sorts – something that is quite common in normal brain activity – but the field that Aidan can create seems to be rather strong.'_ She paused hoping that Franco would interrupt her – it was difficult enough to explain a topic that was usually associated with electrically-operated equipment without telling a father that his own son appeared to be behaving in the same way. _'And I believe that his own field has the capability of upsetting another person's. Possibly not his presence itself, but by contact.'_

'How... I mean, how does it affect the other person's mind?'

_'It disrupts their normal functions. Alters their own activity.'_

'Yes, yes...' he was growing impatient. 'But what does that do to them?'

_'Communication between the sensory-motor systems is disrupted.'_

'Paralysis. Brain damage.' he held his forehead as he said this.

She said nothing.

He thought of his wife lying in that hospital room, IV tubes running through her arms, with the artificial respirator beside her making its whooshing sound as it expanded and contracted. She can't even breathe for herself, he thought. He tried to maintain his composure. Aidan needed him now. That's what Emily would have wanted. This was no time to weaken and break down.

'How can I help Aidan? How can I help my son?' he asked finally.

_'He's going to want someone to talk to once his symptoms grow stronger. I suggest you read up as much as you can on the subject. Which is what I'm doing. But you must understand something, Jonathan. People these days don't take kindly to anything new- anything different. They tend to fear what they don't understand. And some people express this fear through hate. I must confess, I don't know whether it is best to inform the school he attends or simply keep his condition under wraps. But I am tending towards the second alternative.'_

He looked at the ceiling. Things would not get any easier for himself or Aidan. 'I need to ask you one more thing, doctor. Can I... can I touch my son when it happens? Can I hold him?'

She took in a deep breath before answering. _'No. I would have to advise against it.'_

He didn't have anything to say, so he hung up the phone and stared at the wall for several seconds. He then turned around, and walked slowly, heavily, towards his own bedroom.

If he had turned around the other way, he would have seen Aidan standing stiffly in the hallway outside his room staring at his father as walked away and closed the bedroom door. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I don't like placing disclaimers at the beginning of chapters (I don't enjoy writing disclaimers – period), so I've decided to write one at the end of the first chapter and leave it at that. The characters that you will recognize do not belong to me, but all those that you don't are my own. 

The events that take place are post-X2, so if anyone hasn't seen the movie as yet and doesn't want to stumble across any spoilers should probably stop reading now. 

I actually wrote another X Men fic under another pen-name, but I truly didn't like it that much, so I gave up on it to continue writing another story. I completed my second story, and decided to give X Men another shot. Let's hope it works.


	2. Chapter 2

7 YEARS LATER

MERCER COUNTY, NEW JERSEY

ABBEY VALLEY HIGH SCHOOL

'Go on, put 'em on.' The boy pushed a pair of red gloves across the wooden table to his friend. He watched silently, trying as hard as he could to stifle the giggles welling up inside of him. He saw his friend pick up one glove tentatively – and not wanting to disappoint his gift-giving friend, he threw a wan smile in his direction. 

'Gee...Max, I dunno...they're great – red, but great. I mean, it's not a bad thing-' 

Max interrupted his friend with a loud laugh. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as he let out chuckle after chuckle. After a few moments, he wheezed out, 'Shoulda seen your face, man...Can you picture yourself in one of these babies?' He lifted a glove with his thumb and forefinger, which glinted a bright red in the afternoon sun. His eyes twinkled as he continued to tease his friend. 'All you need – all you need is some red fishnet stockings, a little bit of rouge and it's To Wong Foo, baby!' At this last comment – of which he was rather proud of – he let a large roar of laughter escape, and almost fell off his bench. 

'Laugh it up,' said Aidan, a little sulky that his friend was having a joke at his expense. 'Just be glad you're at the other end of the table, bucko.'

Max widened his eyes, feigning fear. 'Oooh...somebody get the medics, I think I'm going into cardiac arrest!' And then on seeing that his friend wasn't as appreciative of his humor, Max stopped joking around and tried to steer the conversation onto a more serious route. 'Alright, I'll back off. But seriously man, you gotta get something to cover up that skin of yours. The last time you tried arm wrestling with Joe-Joe over there,' he nodded in the direction of a jovial over-sized boy, who was attempting to impress some younger girls, 'I think you nearly popped his eyes out.'

Aidan pursed his lips. 'I didn't think it was _that_ bad...'

'You kidding? If you didn't pretend to win as quick as you did – not that I'm saying you're a loser or anything – let's just say that Joe-Joe would be no mo'.'

'I don't think that's funny, Max.'

'Neither do I, man. Which is why I've bestowed upon thee these delicate ruby gloves. Or at least I'm bestowing the _idea_ of doing something about that power of yours. Take my advice in the good grace with which it is given.'

'I can't go around wearing gloves – whatever the color – in the middle of summer, man. People will think I'm a pansy!'

Max leaned over the table and looked his friend in the eyes. 'What other option do you have?' He shook his head, feeling as though he wasn't getting through. 'Listen dude, Joe-Joe was fine about it – he isn't going to spread anything around. If I know him – and I believe I do – he isn't going to cry "mutie" around town. But everyone's not as peace-loving as him, d'you see? So it's either you get yourself something snazzy to cover up your hands, or run the risk of letting out your little secret. It's up to you. But as your respected ally in the battle-zone of high school, it's my obligation to advise you of your options of survival.'

Aidan smiled, and then looked towards the school grounds, filled with people milling about each with their own brand of sorrows and stories to tell. Though his, he felt, was rather on the more warped side of things. Which was a mild way of putting it. After his mother had fallen into a coma – of which he privately felt responsible for despite the protests of others, he'd found out that he would become a mutant – although at the age of eleven he had only a vague idea of what that would entail. In his young mind, he had thought that he would soon develop horns and a spiked tail, and would be sent off to some remote island to live the rest of his days as an outcast. At first, Aidan lived with this fear for a good seven months, which, for a child could be quite frightening, before breaking down before his father and letting everything out. His father had explained the workings and consequences of a mutation, but nothing more. What Aidan wanted was for the man to pick him up, sit him in his lap and say that everything would be okay. That he loved him no matter who he was, or what he was. Aidan could see that his father was battling with something – now he decided that it was love and fear – that held him back from being what he intended to be: a good father. He was more aloof, more secluded, and he spent as much time possible working long hours at his office. But it was not to say that his father didn't love him. Perhaps, Aidan had thought several times, he simply had a different way of showing it. However, there was no denying that despite their resistance, everything had changed since his mother had taken ill. There were no more outings to the park, to the space museum or the "fun fair" – as Aidan fondly referred to it. By the age of twelve, he had given up asking. By thirteen, he had sworn that his father didn't love him anymore, so he took his actions into his own hands and did the next best thing he thought logical.

He ran away.

He only got as far as the next town on the following day, before getting picked up by a gas station attendant who then proceeded to call in the police after seeing Aidan's face on the evening news. The police brought him back home, and he saw his father – for the first time in so many months – express emotion. He cried, wept tears, asking his son to forgive him. He had told Aidan that yes, his behavior as a father was inexcusable, but he truly did not know what to do. He cried for his son, he cried for his wife. He said that there were some things that time could not heal, and that he was one of them. But he said he would try harder, to be more attentive to Aidan's needs – in short, he made several promises. But he couldn't keep them. His father loved him – that much was apparent – but he no longer knew how to show it.

It was around this time that Aidan had finally accepted that things had changed, and they were very possibly going to remain that way. He began to pay more frequent visits to his mother in hospital, telling her things about home, school, dad, his life, leaving out nothing. He believed – that despite her comatose state – she was still there, listening to him, and in her own way was offering comfort to her son. It was one Friday afternoon – after school – while he was reading her the book report he'd written, that a boy with a red shock of hair came stumbling into the hospital room, carrying an IV bag, some transparent tubes and a stethoscope. 

"My cat's sick." the boy had explained. "But not for long – I'm gonna make him better!"

Aidan was too shocked to answer, but he managed to stammer, "You can't take that stuff out of here – they'll...they'll arrest you!"

"Aw c'mon, I wasn't born yesterday... And besides, they got plenty more stuff where this came from!" Then, looking down at Aidan's mother he had said, "Say, who's this?"

"My mother." Aidan had answered.

"What's she in for?"

"She's in a coma," and then without thinking or hesitating, Aidan had let it spill out. "I did it – with my powers."

The boy had nodded, interested, but a sad look grew into his eyes. "Betcha didn't mean to, huh."

Aidan nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. 

"I know I'd feel real sore about it if I was you. But I guess you already do. Your face looks like it's got a tale to tell." And then, dropping his belongings on the floor, he pulled up a chair next to Aidan. "And I'm all ears. But before we proceed – introductions first." He offered his hand to Aidan. "Maximillian Rhimes. But my friends call me Max or Rojo – that's coz I'm of Irish descent. And proud of it. Can't you tell?"

Aidan laughed, for what he felt was the first in a long time. He had immediately taken to the boy, with his eccentric and extremely likable nature. Aidan grasped the offered hand, and shook it. "An honor to make your acquaintance, Max. I'm afraid I'm not that interesting...just home grown American. This here's my mother, Emily." he nodded in her direction and then watched as Max smiled and said hello – without the least bit of awkwardness. 

Aidan spoke with Max for a long while – the longest he's ever had to carry on in a conversation, and was surprised to discover that he enjoyed it immensely. They would have carried on further had not visiting hours being over at the hospital intervened. Aidan went home, feeling as though he'd finally found something precious – something he thought he'd never find, someone to actually confide in, to share his ideas, feelings and thoughts with. He had found his best friend.

Aidan was suddenly jolted out of his revelry by a friendly pat on the back. 

'You know, I just adore it when you get that dreamy look in your eye – who's your next victim, Don Juan? Julia? Maggie? Or is it our lovely art history substitute, Annie Hall?' chuckled Max, as he yanked his friend up off the bench by his jacket.

'You really should stop calling her that.' said Aidan as they walked back to the school building.

'I do believe I've hit the bull's eye on that one. What's so fascinating about her?'

Aidan smiled, thinking. He hadn't actually given it much thought – and it was only recently that he discovered that he had a mild crush on their teacher. 'Y'know – I've sized it down to two things. One, it's just your regular boyhood fascination with older women or two: deep within the chasm of my soul lies a Woody Allen clone.' He thrust his hands into his pockets as they walked and looked back at Max. 'What about you, Romeo? How're things with Julia?'

'Aw, you know – just great. Fantastic actually. These past couple days I've gotten her to acknowledge my very existence! Why yesterday, at lunch, during the usual chaos of grabbing one's food, she shuffled past yours truly and actually said "excuse me". It's love, I tell ya.'

'Tell her yourself, Max. Here she comes. Try to act nonchalant.' spoke Aidan out of the side of his mouth, as a young girl strolled towards the two of them, smiling.

Max straightened his crumpled T-shirt and smoothed back his hair. He looked at the girl and grinned. 'Bonjourno! I'd lift off my hat to you on this fine morning – if I had one. You're looking mighty rosy today – healthy food, I take it. I mean, not that you looked malnourished before-'

Aidan rubbed the sides of his brow with his fingers, looked downwards and covered his mouth with his hand, trying not to smile too much. This was as nonchalant as Max could get. 

'Hello Max.' responded the girl, not smiling. Then she looked at Aidan and grinned. 'Hi Aidan.'

Aidan stood still for a second and then pushed his glasses further up his nose. 'Hey.' was all he said.

Max looked at Aidan and then back at Julia.

'I was wondering – you're pretty good at that calculus stuff Mr. Wagner assigned us, huh? So um...maybe we could get together sometime and go over it?' asked the girl.

Aidan took his time in answering. Max coughed. 

'Uh – I'm actually kind of a dunce when it comes to calculus, but Max here, he's your man! I mean, not your partner...what I mean to say is – he's a regular A-1 genius at that stuff. You should study with him.' said Aidan.

She looked at both of them in turn and then back at Aidan. 'Sure. Well – I'll have to get back to you on that one Aidan. Anyways...I gotta go,' she pointed with her thumb behind her, 'gotta grab some food.'

The two boys stood side by side together in silence, hands in their pockets. Max spoke first. 'Way to go, man. A-1 genius? Where the hell did that come from?'

'Oh shut up – you're the one who went into the details of how nutrition factors play a key role in physical health!'

Max sighed. 'Well, at least I think one of us ought to have accepted her offer. And it should've been you. It's no joke that I'm the brains of this outfit while you're the one with the handsome mug.' he looked rather downcast. 'It's like Pinky and the Brain all over again.'

'How flattering.' quipped Aidan. And then he laughed. 'Girls ain't worth the heartache, man.' he put an arm around his friend. 'And don't go kidding yourself that you're not good enough for 'em. You are. Here's something that'll make you feel better. If I was a girl, you'd be my number one stud.'

Max shook Aidan's arm off his shoulder and joked, 'And you'd get a number one restraining order, you freak.' He then looked towards the basketball court suddenly, as something caught his interest. 'What's up over there?'

They walked towards the court on which a crowd was gathering. Aidan hung back, reluctant to investigate while Max pushed his way through groups of people. Joe-Joe was standing amidst the crowd and Max sidled up to him.

'What's going on?' asked Max.

'It's Lomax and Hartly. I'm not in on the details but I think Lomax might've gotten a bit fresh with Hartly's girl. Or something like that...' replied Joe-Joe, who then turned to focus his attention on the steaming argument before them.

Max followed suit and looked towards the center of the circle in which two guys were having a heated debate. Apparently, things hadn't boiled off to the point where the two were at iron grips with one another, but it looked as if that wouldn't take too long. Max felt sorry for Lomax. It was true that when it actually came down to affability, Avery Lomax wasn't exactly Mr. Congeniality – but he was undoubtedly the underdog in the fray and Max _always_ sided with the underdog. Hartly on the other hand seemed to have had succumbed and conformed to the workings of his fraternity – both mannerisms and attitudes included. And he was also much bigger than Avery. Very much bigger.

'Shouldn't someone do something? I mean, the kid's going to get wasted if Hartly so much as _breathes_ on him!' spoke Max, concerned. 

'I tried,' Joe-Joe explained, 'but then I saw Hartly's buds...' he nodded to the right of the growing crowd in which stood three boys gazing at their friend's progress intently. 'There. Frat buddies.' Joe-Joe shuddered.

'Should I get someone? Maybe...?' Max's words slowed to a halt as he saw Alan Hartly shove the smaller teen, who stumbled backwards but did not fall. Neither did he walk away. Max was getting increasingly agitated, debating whether he should make a desperate run towards the principal's office or simple fling himself into the fight, grab Lomax and make a run for it. But he didn't have time to make a decision. He watched, his mouth agape as Aidan walked coolly towards the two boys, who didn't notice him at first, but quickly diverted their gaze from each other to make sense of this new turn of events.

'Aidan, you bloody idiot...' breathed Max, as he watched on with dread.

'Stay out of this, Franco! This doesn't concern you!' threatened Hartly.

'That depends on how you and Lomax are gonna sort things out, doesn't it?' Aidan spoke back.

'When words fail, sometimes you gotta use force. The same applies to you.' said Hartly.

'Then let's see you force me, Alan. Take out your anger on me and let the kid alone.'

Hartly looked at his three friends and then back to Aidan. Smiling he said, 'I take it you're into suicidal missions, huh.'

'You have no idea,' muttered Max under his breath as he watched the scene unfold, distraught. What the hell was Aidan getting himself into? At first it seemed as if he merely wanted to break up the fight, but now he wasn't so certain. Aidan did not hesitate in the slightest way – it was almost as if he had volunteered to fight Hartly. Max knew there was something more here – did Aidan want to prove himself? No, he had never felt as though he had to live up to anyone's standards, but one thing was certain. He lived each day as if he was paying for the sin of what he had done to his mother. And now he was paying up again. Max pursed his lips and breathed in deeply. If Aidan was going to acquire a taste for Hartly's knuckles, then so was he. 

He stepped into the opening just as he noticed the crowd disperse bit by bit. He looked to see what was the cause of this, and squinting into the distance, he saw two people – he made out one to be school security and the second was very likely the vice-principal – running towards the basketball court. He turned his attention back to Aidan and Hartly, relieved that it was going to be over. But his relief didn't last long.

'Looks like your ass if covered for the moment, punk.' snarled Hartly. 'But I'm not letting you get out of this that easy. You wanna hear what I gotta say?'

Aidan's pulse quickened, but he tried to play it cool. 'Spare me the drama, Macbeth.'

'Tonight. 9 p.m. out back of Wesley's Hardware Store. I'm gonna lecture you on how never to interfere in someone else's business. If you're half a minute late, well, what can I say...?' said Hartly as he feigned despair and threw up his hands.

A double-edged sword, thought Aidan. Ah, how he loved those. 'I'll be there.' was all he said before quickly walking away with the crowd.

By the time security and the vice-principal reached the basketball court, all that remained for them to break up were some spilt sodas sinking in between the cracks of the concrete and empty candy wrappers fluttering in the wind. 


	3. Chapter 3

He turned the lock with his key, and pushed open the front door. It was still dark inside, so he flipped on the light switch. He made his way to the refrigerator in the kitchen, opened its door and stood staring at its contents. He wasn't even hungry. Eating felt routine at the moment. And routine felt suitable – considering. He shut his eyes and cursed repeatedly under his breath. Max was right. It was a stupid idea – challenging Hartly like he did. But like all stupid ideas, it had seemed very appropriate at the time. 

'Aidan?' spoke a voice from behind him.

Aidan spun around, surprised. 'Dad!' he exclaimed. 'You're home?'

'Didn't go to work today,' he muttered. 

'Why not?' said Aidan as he pulled a carton of milk out and started drinking from it. He remembered how his mother used to smack him playfully for doing it – _bad hygiene_, she had said. But she wasn't around to say it anymore, and there would never be any protests from good old dad, thought Aidan. He winced with guilt after this thought – give the old man a chance, he tried to tell himself. 

'I've never taken a sick day off. Never took any leave. They said I ought to...so I did.' was his father's matter-of-fact explanation.

Aidan nodded and took his drink into the living room and cut the conversation short by doing so. Heck, they were never that interesting anyway. But out of the corner of his eye, Aidan noticed his father grab a bottle of apple cider and follow him into the living room. Aidan said nothing despite growing agitation. Instead he reached for the remote control and turned the television on.

'Getting to be like a regular bachelor pad, huh?' said Aidan's father as he made space for his bottled drink by pushing a stack of papers to the corner of the coffee table.

Aidan didn't reply. It looked as if it was going to be one of those days when his father suddenly took it upon himself to try and right everything that had gone wrong in the past seven years. Not that it was the old man's fault, but he had admitted it – several times over – that time would never heal their wounds. So why was he trying if it was too late? Was he simply bored and looking to Aidan to catch up on seven lost years of his life? 

Aidan stared at the television pretending to be engrossed in the evening special. Maybe if he didn't say anything, his father would just leave him alone.

'Man, I remember Molly Ringwald,' spoke his father, looking at the television, 'Where is she now? Fame one day and gone tomorrow, huh. You know-' 

'Is there something on your mind, Dad? I mean, instead of taking the longer route, let's just cut to the chase and you ask me what you wanna ask me.' snapped Aidan. He didn't mean to, but right now the pressures from school, the tension at home and the upcoming fight which Aidan felt extremely nervous about quickened his already short temper.

'Well actually, I just wanted to initiate conversation. It seems like we hardly talk anymore.' replied his father, slightly hurt.

'Bullshit, Dad!'

'Watch your mouth!'

'Oh so now you suddenly care about my language use huh?'

'I just want to talk,'

'You want to talk? Okay...let's talk.' Aidan turned off the television with the remote and then flung it down onto the couch angrily. 'Let's talk about how you do this every five months. How you go around with your work and your own concerns pretending like I'm just a bloody tenant in your home. Let's talk about how you forget pay my school tuition fees, how you forget everything until suddenly an idea pops into your head that you wanna make up for lost time. You think it's that simple?' Aidan chuckled sarcastically. 'That you can say to me, "Son, let's forget the last seven years ever happened. Let's be a family again." It isn't that simple!' he yelled.

'Aidan, I never-' began his father.

'I'm not finished.' he stood up and looked down at his father with contempt. 'I waited and I waited for you start being a father to me, but I'm sick of it. I'm tired of waiting. And while you were busy mourning for someone who isn't even dead – seven years flew by. Seven fucking years. Do you even know what has happened to me during that time? No, huh?' His father couldn't face him, he stared down at the floor. 'Well I can tell you exactly what you did during those seven years. Because I remember. I remember everything. You started developing this new habit of waking up early – like mom used to. You started eating a new brand of cereal. You worked from nine to eleven p.m. and when you get home, you mix yourself a diluted scotch with ice shavings. You don't wear blue anymore – you prefer black or grey. You started taking long walks in the morning timing yourself with a stopwatch. You have this co-worker friend – Jack Munroe – who you like to spend Saturday evenings with. And you guys mainly play rummy or poker. Every Saturday night you come home thirty dollars short from the money you lost. But you don't give a shit because you say it's only money and money isn't everything. There are other things to life, aren't there dad? Like your family. Can you tell me anything about your family? Can you tell me what I've done these past seven – no, let's make it simple – these past two years?'

'You started senior high school...'

'When's my graduation? Who's my best friend?'

His father's face fell. He couldn't answer.

'I thought so.' said Aidan. He turned his back to his father and walked away. '_Now_, I'm finished.'

                                                             _____________________________________

He lay on his bed with the lights out, watching the shadows of the trees against the streetlamp outside make patterns against his wall. One shadow looked like a large horned monster perched on a ledge, waiting quietly for its victim to stumble by. Then the leaves shifted slightly, and it appeared as if the shadow's creature leapt off the ledge and had run off into the darkness. Aidan bit his lip. He was sick of always trying to hold fast to his beliefs, his morals. Why couldn't he play the monster for once? What was stopping him?

He jerked up by a rapping on the window at the foot of his bed. It was Max.

Aidan crawled over to the window and opened it. Max squeezed his way through the narrow opening, grumbling.

'I think it's time you get this darned window fixed. If I grow any bigger, I won't be able to fit through!' said Max, complaining.

'Why the heck can't you just use the front door instead?'

Aidan felt Max grin in the dark. 'Because that wouldn't be as exciting. I live to walk on the wilderness that is danger itself!'

Aidan shook his head; they'd had this conversation before. But this time around, he didn't feel up to the argument. 'Speaking of danger – I do believe I have an appointment with it in half an hour.' He turned to look at the glowing red digital numbers on his alarm clock. As if to remind him that time wasn't waiting – the minute digit suddenly changed from thirty to thirty-one. 'Make that twenty-nine minutes.' spoke Aidan.

'Relax old buddy. I'm here to convince you not to throw away your life so recklessly.'

Aidan raised his eyebrows as Max continued. 'There's a seventy percent chance of rain tonight.'

Aidan ignored his joke, and spoke with a mixture of anger and worry in his voice. 'Are you nuts?! Do you have any idea what Alan Hartly's gonna do to me if I don't keep my word?'

Max's tone softened. 'Yeah, I know but I figured that you should at least hear me out. Alan fights dirty, Aidan. He doesn't lay any ground rules because in his world there aren't any. If you go out there, I just want to make sure you know what you're getting into.'

Aidan pulled out his sneakers from beneath his bed and began putting them on. 'Well...maybe there won't be any fight. Maybe it'll just be a heated exchange of words.'

'And maybe I could be Dian Fossey.' quipped Max. 'It's not going to happen.'

Aidan didn't reply. He stood up, walked to the door, placed his hand on the door knob and then turned towards Max. 'People like that – there has to be a line where they learn that they can't get away with everything. Today it was Lomax, tomorrow it could be some other kid. Listen, I know what I'm doing...'

'Do you?' asked Max. 'Do either of us?' he said again as stood up and walked up to Aidan.

'What do you mean...?'

Max shook his head from side to side, and appeared as if he'd just been convinced to do something he would rather not do. 'It means, you dumbass, that I'm just as crazy as you are... Aw, don't think you can talk me out of it by dishing out this holy shmoly grub. If I couldn't convince you to not fight Hartly, then you can bet your ass that you can't convince me either. Now let's get moving. We got a date with destiny. And she ain't pretty.'

                                                                       __________________________________

It took them ten minutes that seemed to drag on for ten hours to walk to the parking lot of the old hardware store. On the way there, small drops of rain had begun to descend, that became larger and more frequent in number as the minutes went by. By the time they reached their destination, it was coming down hard and the two boys felt the dread intensify as quickly as the rain did. There was no one there yet. They both stood in silence for about two minutes before Aidan, who couldn't stand it anymore, spoke.

'I need to put my glasses away. Where's a safe place?'

Max looked at him as if he were mad. 'You cannot see well without your glasses. You're going to fight. In the pouring rain – which in itself provides you with increased lower visibility and you're asking me to pull out a cabinet out of nowhere to put your glasses in?' He rolled his eyes.

'It's dangerous. I could get glass in my eye or something.' Aidan tried to explain.

'Oh yes. And that's our only true concern here in paradise.' Max looked about him for any sign of Hartly and his buddies. He was growing increasingly agitated by the minute.

'I don't need my glasses to see, Max. All I need to know is where Hartly is. I just need to hear his voice.' muttered Aidan.

'You inspire courage in the hearts of us all, fearless leader.' 

'Oh would you stop it. Isn't it enough that we have to fight these guys without having to nick each other up?'

Max shuffled from foot to foot in anxiousness. 'Sorry man, it's just the weather. Just the weather bringing me down. I didn't mean any of it.' He held out his hand. 'Here, gimme your glasses, I can stuff it in my oversized pocket.' 

Max had just pocketed the glasses when they saw the glittering sign of headlights piercing through the rain like two angry eyes. It belonged to a jeep that turned into the parking lot, and screeched to a halt. Aidan and Max could hear the sound of car doors opening and slamming shut. And through the rain, out walked three indistinct figures. But neither of the two boys needed to have telepathic abilities to tell who the figures were.

'May Lord have mercy on our souls tonight...' Max spoke under his breath. 

Aidan shot him a look and then turned his attention to the approaching figures. 'What's the matter Alan? Thought you couldn't handle me alone, so you had to bring your personal bodyguards with you?' yelled out Aidan.

Max held his hand out stiffly in warning and spoke quietly to Aidan. 'Do you want to personally hammer the nails into our coffins?'

'No, pretty boy...I just brought a couple folks along to clean up the mess after I'm through with you.' said Hartly in response to Aidan.

Max quickly spoke up again – he didn't think they'd have much of a chance to once the fight began. 'Fight dirty, Aidan. Take the first punch.'

Aidan nodded in his direction and the two boys fanned out to meet their opponents.

'I see that you've got your trusty sidekick, Robin, with you.' said Hartly, smiling as he approached Aidan. And then he turned to his two friends. 'Franco's mine. Just make sure Max doesn't cause too much trouble.'

Max tensed, and didn't move. He wasn't sure which was better. Handling these two men who looked as if they hadn't fought in days and had missed the thrill of it, or facing Hartly himself. He figured that he didn't have much of a choice at this point. He ducked as a fisted arm swung through the air whizzing past his head. Max quickly managed to grab it, and hold on to it as he threw in a punch to its owner's stomach. Score one to Maximillian! But he didn't have much time to revel in his pride – pretty soon he felt another arm come up around him and lock onto his neck – just underneath his chin. He squirmed in vain for a few minutes before he felt something sting the side of his cheek bone. He saw an intense bright flash for a second before opening his eyes again. He managed to turn his head a fraction of an inch to search for Aidan. He hoped he was faring better than he was. 

Aidan felt the taste of warm blood flood his mouth. He lashed out at Hartly and hit nothing but air as the other boy dodged to his right. Hartly then took the advantage of those few seconds of time to slam his body – head first – into Aidan's stomach, knocking him to the ground. Aidan let out a small yell as he felt the breath get knocked out of him. He tried to lift himself up, but Hartly was on top of him, pinning him down with his weight. Aidan attempted to lift up his head but it slammed back down onto the concrete as Hartly hit him with his curled fist on the side of his eye. Aidan clenched his teeth in pain and tried to get out from underneath the bigger boy. He raised his knee and shoved it into Hartly's stomach who let out a yell of pain. But try as he might, Aidan couldn't get out from under Hartly – the older boy was much too heavy. And it seemed as if he was trained for this type of thing. Aidan breathed in deeply and tried to focus every ounce of energy – every bit of strength – into getting some distance in between the two of them. He reached out for Hartly's face and began to push it up, further away from his own. He shut his eyes and felt his head tingle slightly. At first, Aidan grew alarmed – he thought he was getting light-headed because less oxygen was reaching his brain. But seconds later, he began to feel good – almost improving – just like he'd felt when he'd arm-wrestled Joe-Joe a few weeks ago. He finally opened his eyes when he felt no resistance from his opponent and looked to see Hartly's face, his eyelids, flutter in the dim glow of the neon streetlight. Hartly's arms hung limply by his sides and the only thing keeping him from falling completely on top of Aidan was Aidan's arm – holding the boy's head at bay. 

Part of him told him to let go, but something inside that gave him this immensely strong feeling wanted for it to go on until it was completely over. Aidan suddenly felt sick. This feeling – it wasn't part of him. He immediately took this opportunity to roll Hartly off of him – before any more damage could be done. He sat up, as blood mixed with rain ran down his neck and got soaked up into his jacket. He then quickly remembered Max. He saw him kicking and lashing out wildly at the two boys – one was holding him down as the other was throwing punches at him without hesitation.

'-et him go!' began Aidan – but his voice felt weak. He tried again. 'YOU LET HIM GO!' 

Max's two attackers turned to Aidan, and it took them a second to register that Hartly was no longer standing up. He was lying face down on the concrete. 

'YOU HEARD WHAT I SAID? If you don't leave him alone, I'm gonna do to you what I did to your pal!' repeated Aidan.

The first boy immediately released Max and ran up to Hartly. Max slumped to the ground and stood watching through a puffy eye, as his attacker turned Hartly over and inspected him. 'You fucking killed him, man! You killed him!' shouted the boy, panic beginning to sink in.

'I didn't kill him.' said Aidan.

'Well he ain't moving!'

'I didn't kill him.' repeated Aidan. 

'How the hell do you know?!' screeched the boy.

'I know.' replied Aidan quietly. 'He's not dead. Check his pulse.' He stood still as the rain pelted down, watching as the other boy bent down and felt Hartly's wrist.

Max struggled to his feet and walked up to Aidan's side. He knew, better than anyone, what had happened. But he didn't know how far Aidan had taken it this time. 'Is he...?'

'No,' spoke Hartly's friend. 'He's still alive. He's-' he paused suddenly as the sound of approaching sirens filtered through the air, growing less faint with each passing moment. He then quickly got up to his feet and spoke hurriedly – not to anyone in particular. 'Forget this, I'm outta here.'

Aidan and Max then watched in silence as the two boys darted back into Hartly's jeep, shoved the vehicle into reverse and drove out of the parking lot as if the devil himself was after them.

'I'm not running, Max. Max...?' spoke Aidan, as he widened his eyes in fear, turning to his friend.

'Don't worry. I'm not going anywhere.'


End file.
